His imminent demise is a rebirth to the harsh truth that life is short. Rather it isnt long enough for me to tell him that I love him. Last night I cried aloud as he used silence to whisper I love you too. He doesnt speak english, but last night everything made sense. His breath sounded sweet, like the santol tree leaves in the wind and soft like the sunrise above the rice fields. Last night the teardrops fell like sunset as his soul began to rise to meet grandma’s.
I closed my eyes in an attempt to shut my mind from reality. Wherein that moment I saw his, old like the land. His face wrinkled like the trees. His smile warm like the summer breeze. We sat silent and watched the sun set…
Opened them and managed to say”Tatang, I love you” one last time.
So I’m a hopeless romantic and so what. That doesn’t mean i hope less,rather id say that i hope more for some romantic moments because there isn’t enough time in a day to hold your hand. I want to handcuff the hands of time together, hold captive the sands of time to make sure your hand stays intertwined with mine.